Love Letters tied up with Secrets
by fallenfairy4
Summary: And this is the story of how Damon Salvatore consumed Elena Gilbert. He didn't use his good looks, or even his sinful body…all he used was a pen and a piece of paper.
1. Chapter 1

Summary: And this is the story of how Damon Salvatore consumed Elena Gilbert. He didn't use his good looks, or even his sinful body…all he used was a pen and a piece of paper.

Title: Love Letters tied up in Secrets

AN: I know I should be working on "Midnight Visit," or "Razor's Edge," but sometimes I just start writing and well…this is the result. I have to go where the muses move me (silly muses, can't you help me finish "midnight visit? I am working on it, I promise)

Anyway, I have more of this story written, so hopefully I can update and finish this fic before too much time has passed.

This fic is dedicated to Eden, whose stories have me on the edge of my seat and yelling at her characters.

Reviews are love!

Prologue

It started out simply enough. At first I was merely flattered. It was a harmless flirtation, an ego boost. Why would I need to tell my boyfriend about something so inconsequential? After all, it had no bearing on our relationship.

Besides, wasn't a girl entitled to a few harmless secrets every once in a while?

Looking back on those early days, I can see that even then I was in denial. I just didn't want to face it, I was a coward. I was a mere zephyr compared to the hurricane that was Damon's love. And Stefan was as predictable as the sea-breeze, so safe in comparison. After all, how much damage could a breeze make? Hurricanes had the power to demolish.

The first letter came the day after I was rescued from Rose and Elijah.

I had spent the morning palming my necklace, a memory desperately trying to unfurl from the black edges of my subconscious. There was something I was supposed to remember…something about my locket and tears…

To this day I can remember exactly how that first envelop felt in my hands, a slight weight that somehow had my heart dancing to an unknown rhythm (unknown at the time anyway). I remember watching the cream of my hand tremble against the startlingly white envelop as I slid one thick piece of paper out. I barely managed to avoid giving myself a paper cut. The edges of my world blurred, upsetting my balance on reality. Stefan's chatter seemed to fade, along with the sounds of the TV wafting in from the family room.

As I slowly unfolded the single piece of paper my breath caught, the single sentence scrawled in loopy cursive changing what seemed to be the very composition of my body.

_My heart bleeds for you, crimson tear drops that prove my misery with its permanent stain._

_DS_

That was the beginning….and the end.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I own nothing

AN: I still have so much more of this story left so please stick with me and review.

This chapter is for everyone that reviewed my prologue; you all know who you are. Thank you my lovelies ;)

And also a shout-out to my friend, Eden. We're both anxiously awaiting the mid-season finale (and hoping for a Delena kiss)

And, on with the show!

Ch. 1 – Fight and Surrender

I must have stood there, staring at that letter numbly for what felt like hours. In reality it was probably only a couple of minutes before Stefan came ambling in to check on me.

He had an adorably perplexed look on his face, complete with furrowed brows and pouting lips. I tried hard to hold onto the word 'adorable' and ignore words that bubbled up inside me like 'annoying' and 'girly'.

Somewhere inside of me, I knew that face would haunt me for years to come.

It would haunt me because that was the expression I was staring at when I made my split-second decision. And as dramatic as it may have sounded, I knew this decision had the ability to alter the path of my destiny forever.

I don't know why I did it, but I shoved Damon's letter in my back jean pocket and smiled reassuringly up at my boyfriend.

I should have told Stefan about the letter, hell I should have burnt it. Instead, I hid it away until I was completely alone.

And then, I proceeded to re-read Damon's words.

Over and over again I read them. I read them so many times that the black ink he'd used seemed to blur and swim in front of my eyes.

I allowed myself this. I promised myself this would be my first and only moment of weakness. When morning came I would fold up his letter and never look at it again. …Of course at that moment I couldn't have known that more letters were already on their way.

She finds the second letter that following morning.

She'd woken up bleary-eyed and cranky, uttering less than 5 words to Stefan during the drive to school. Elena tried to remind herself that Stefan's unfaltering smile (even in the face of her crabbiness) was a positive character trait of his.

But Damon would smirk and get a laugh, if not a genuine smile out of her. If she were in a real pissy mood, he'd probably throw in that eye thing he did for good measure.

Elena has to physically shake her head in order to get the image of what she likes to call his 'smolder face' out of her thoughts.

It's sitting there waiting for her, folded innocently inside her locker.

_What will you do now, my love? Will you continue to sneak off and keep me a secret? Will you continue to blush and fidget in the dark as you think about my words? I bet you can't help but wonder what else my hands can do to you. Those same hands I use to write out my longing for you, the proof of which you now have cradled in your own. _

_-DS_

Out of curiosity she flipped the creamy expensive paper over and was (pleasantly?) surprised to find a second message inscribed.

_I want to smell you on me._

_DS_

Stefan checked her forehead repeatedly throughout the rest of the day; convinced her flush was due to fever.

She had a fever all right, although she didn't think her boyfriend would appreciate its non-medical origin.

Nevertheless, she'd used the excuse Stefan had unknowingly provided for her and claimed fatigue in order to get some time alone.

Against her still heated flesh, everything felt cool; the banister underneath her fingernails, the wood-paneled stairs against her bare feet…

…The air against her tear-stained face.

She needed to think, but the energy she felt building underneath her skin all day seemed to double with each passing hour – making it impossible for her to concentrate on anything.

One way or another, Elena would come face-to-face with Damon. Did she pretend everything was normal, did she pretend only in front of Stefan and than confront Damon about it later?

One letter was unusual, two unlikely, but three….?

With a conviction Elena rarely felt towards anything anymore, she knew a fourth letter would be arriving tomorrow.

(Did she want a fourth letter?)

If she were honest with herself, Elena would admit she was equal parts excited and apprehensive.

Elena wasn't honest with herself, not yet anyway.

She comes to expect Damon's messages with the kind of expectation one holds regarding the sunrise. It's a beautiful, unchangeable thing.

The only variation she expects is in the ribbon color he'll use. Damon always ties a beautiful silky bow around each and every white envelope.

She finds herself picturing his hands, the way they must move to tie that bow…

But even the ribbon color is in some ways predictable.

The ribbon shade will clue Elena in to whatever mood Damon was feeling while writing to her.

A black ribbon will be thrillingly tragic. He'll weave his words around her heart like thorns, pricking at her until she cries out.

_If you ever let me inside of you, I think it might kill me. Strange then isn't it, that I'm so eager to meet my death._

_DS_

A green ribbon will be deceptively simple. His message seemingly meant to sooth, to calm. And it does, until Elena finds its aftertaste hitting her hours later, its sweet taste lingering.

_I found God in your smile._

_DS_

She gets the most red ribbons.

There's nothing deceptive about that color or what it boldly suggests. And every single time Elena thinks she sees a flash of red from the corner of her eye… inevitably her mouth will dry and her thighs will moisten.

_I long to lick the sweat off your skin and let it slide down my throat till it dissolves, becoming a part of my own body._

_DS_

But notice she says mood and not emotion, because even though the mood may vary, the emotion behind it always remains constant.

Elena imagines any elementary reading class would be able to identify the 'theme' to Damon's letters.

"Love."

The letters grew so frequent, so constant that Elena walks around in a constant state of arousing tension.

There could be letters around every corner, under every surface.

Under her pillow,

_Your whisper evaporates and curls like smoke into the very air I breathe. I'm breathing you all day long._

_DS_

Between the pages of her textbook,

_These pages are sacred to me… __**you**__ had your hands all over them._

_DS_

Resting on the windshield of her car,

_How the idea of you tortures me. You are a butterfly I can never catch, always fluttering in my periphery. But I catch every glance you throw my way – looking at me under eyelashes as delicate as butterfly wings._

_DS_

…Each one breaking her down until she has no willpower left.

Damon's first victory comes in the form of Elena's submission; the second comes with her answering him.

She draws her own messages on the backs of his, leaving them in the same spot where she encounters them. He finds them, reads them, and then returns them (wanting his words, his love, to remain with her always).

Her first letter,

_You are my secret. You're the secret my heart keeps, guarded from the outside world by layers upon layers of my very flesh. _

_Elena _


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Thank you to all my readers and reviewers! I have about one more chapter left, so please R&R and let me know how I'm doing!

Rated M – for language and general naughtiness ;)

Ch. 2 – Hunger, madness, and all things insane

_I picture your mouth when I get myself off. And I curse you while I cum hot and needy into my own hands…. I want to be exploding into yours. _

_DS_

She's taken to reading his letters under an old Weeping Willow tree.

Its shade casts a dark shadow over her, making her feel at home with her lurid thoughts.

Elena has dreams of making love with Damon here, under these shadowy leaves; Damon's hard body, insistent on top of hers.

Her back would dig into the moist undergrowth, leaving imprints in the shape of her body behind in the fragrant soil.

The smell of his sweat and cologne would intertwine with the earth's richness, overpowering her senses. What a lovely cocoon that would make.

Anything can happen here, she thinks.

And even as she's slipping her hand slowly under the waistband of her jeans, and a sigh gets caught up somewhere in her throat….

She still can't _**believe**_ what she's currently in the process of doing.

Elena Gilbert does not get herself off in public…except… she does.

And somewhere out there, Damon is smirking and watching.

Even if she hadn't been told in his earlier letter, she would still be able to feel his eyes on her.

The thought makes her cum so quickly, so abruptly, that Elena can't quite muffle the curses spewing out of her dry lips.

A scream however is unacceptable, so Elena bites down on her lips hard enough to make them bleed. The blood enters her mouth, and Elena thinks of something else she'd like having invade her taste buds.

_I'm watching you._

_DS_

Her heart throbs, one beat for every word he's written. Her life song is being created by him.

_Your love became like ivy, a small tendril you implanted in my heart until it grew and pulled - till it had the whole of my heart entangled within its clinging grasp._

_-Elena_

It scares her that all she can see in Stefan's gaze are murky shadows, like the bottom of a mud filled lake clouding its surface.

So she tries to ignore the shadows in Stefan's eyes and the light elucidating Damon's. She even tries to ignore how that light seems to illuminate a pathway she wants embark upon. It's a passage filled with sunlight and lined with fresh smelling flowers. A trail promising evenings lit up with fireflies, and nights culminating in fire made from nothing but their naked bodies rubbing together. She can see their whole future lined up in Damon's eyes, as easily as if there were actual words printed in his icy orbs.

Elena figures it out quickly, if she didn't already known from the start. He knows that she knows of course, and when they meet face to face (heart to heart) – he taunts her with their secret, shared knowledge.

He'll drag a white piece of paper along whatever surface is within Elena's eyesight.

He'll bring a snow white envelope up to his lips and lick it.

He'll tie a colorful ribbon around his wrist, only allowing Elena a quick flash of its color before hiding it again under his shirt sleeve.

Of course the color always matches his mood.

She's sure her boyfriend's noticed by now. Even she can admit that she's looking a little worse for wear. Funny, she really doesn't give a shit. Besides, Damon said he liked the whole crazy, wild look she's got going on these days. (His letter that morning went on and on about how her tangled hair and guilty eyes made it look like he'd just fucked her on his own brother's bed)

Her focus is gone, her thoughts consumed by his letters.

In class, in the shower, in her dreams - all she hears are his words running through her head. When she closes her eyes she sees his handwriting, scrawling his messages beneath her eyelids. Their glow warms her heart as much as it does her body. She sleeps as far to the edge of their bed as she can, as far away from Stefan that the mattress will allow, with her body facing away from his. She doesn't want to share air with Stefan while in her mind she's sharing words with Damon.

If she has no paper, she'll pretend there's an invisible keyboard in front of her and will "type" out his letters, her fingers ghosting over a plain wooden desk. When she runs out of letters to "re-type," she'll create her own – addressed to him of course.

_If we ever start to make love, how will we ever stop?_

_Elena_

She feels their stares by the itching it creates between her shoulder blades. It creates a tickle she can never satisfy with a mere scratch of her fingernails. Elena should care that they care. Their concern should warm her heart, but it doesn't. Actually, she feels nothing these days. Her secret has consumed her. She doesn't care. Why should she, she has her letters after all.

Her heart is a staccato beat, drumming DA-MON, DA-MON – his name becoming tattooed to her breastbone.

"Damon" is branded throughout her insides, so obvious to her but a secret to everyone else….This shouldn't excite her as much it does.

_Giving into you will be like an exhale, completely liberating and paramount to my survival._

_Elena_

Her fantasies get out of hand. Her thoughts turn so graphic that even though it's Elena herself thinking such thoughts, they make her uncomfortable. Her hands fist, clutching at the sheets beneath her palms before giving in with a strangled groan – fingers seeking out that painful ache.

_Just you wait until I get you in my bed…_

_DS_

Pleasure spreads throughout her body, she's feeling _**everything**_. Hell, Elena thinks she can even feel the electricity lighting up her nerves, jumping from synapse to synapse - flooding ecstasy into every crevice of her body.

It's enough that Elena wants to stop for a minute and applaud them for a job well done.

Has she really never noticed before that Stefan kinda walks around looking constipated? How the hell did she miss that? She supposes it could be quite funny actually…if it weren't so annoying.

She likes her men snarky; she's decided….not cranky.

On occasion, his words are simple.

_Katherine took away my humanity; you gave it back to me. I'd paint the streets with Katherine's blood for you._

_DS_

…well simple for him, anyway.

_I'm only alive when I'm with you. So don't let me die._

_Elena_

Hers can be simple too. Well, as simple as her love for him can possibly be.

Damon has a way of speaking through his whole body.

His eyes are the first thing she'd noticed. And not just their admittedly gorgeous color, but it was something about the way he was able to emote through them.

He uses his whole body, and his whole face to talk. He uses everything in his impressive arsenal to communicate much more than just mere words, he emits unspoken messages and secret intentions in a way no one else ever could.

It shouldn't surprise her that even without his usual array of tricks at his disposal; he still manages to express a thousand different things, with a measly few words blotted in black and white.

And Elena's become fluent in all his languages. (Probably in the same way he's become fluent in all of hers).

So when he says crude things that any other girl would scoff at, Elena knows it's his way of being romantic.

She doesn't feel much guilt anymore.

Then the photos start.

It really shouldn't be construed as erotic. There's no private parts exposed under harsh lights. No over-the-top, staged poses.

The image in front of her _**should**_ look simple, boring even.

She's exposed more flesh during Church...

Arranged her hair in sexier styles...

Worn more makeup on Sunday mornings…

So there really _**shouldn't**_ be anything remotely appealing about the photo he's taken of her.

Except, there is…

The image currently causing her to flush is contained within a small square of black and white (how could anything be less threatening)?

But she feels the perspiration dotting her hair line and trying to run over and cool her over-heated flesh. Elena licks her lips and brings the photo close to her chest, cradling it against her breast like a newborn. It's that precious to her…it's that forbidden for anyone else's gaze.

Her back is to the camera; her neck turned exposing only her profile. The image is somewhat grainy, enhancing certain things and blurring out others.

Her blouse is thin and loose, exposing one glistening shoulder blade.

(Everything else is fully covered and dark).

Her hair is straight and cascading down her face, obscuring everything but a glimpse of cheek, and spiky eyelashes.

Her open, pouting lips are another story. They and her one exposed shoulder are on full display, highlighted starkly. They are all pearly whites and pastel grays against the darker, shadowy background.

Minutes pass, and Elena's heart is still pounding against the glossy paper-like substance she has pressed against her chest. There really shouldn't be anything so sexy about that image of her, but all Elena knows is that the idea of anyone else seeing this is about as horrifying as someone finding nude photos of her.

She can't understand what it is about the photo that is so blatantly sexual. Is it the expression on her face? The way her lips are parted, open in invitation? Is it that one bare shoulder, hinting at her somewhat buried sexuality?

No, Elena decids. It's not any of those things; it had nothing to do with how she's sitting or what emotions are playing across her face.

The reason she looks so sensual, so exotic, is because of Damon.

Because_** Damon**_ took the picture.

He used his eyes and his fingers to create, and preserve her image for all eternity.

Because to Damon, she is beautiful.

And Elena finds herself thinking that's all that matters.

Tbc…

Thoughts anyone?

*cricket cricket*

Thoughts on "The Homecoming then?"

I know I wasn't the only one disappointed with the lack of a Delena kiss (*cough cough… Eden*) although that last scene between them was pretty epic ;)


	4. Chapter 4

Ch3. Mind-blowing Orgasms

AN: WARNING…this chapter is rated Mature for a reason….read with caution (this means you Eden ;)

I can't even begin to thank all my readers for the amazing reviews! I've never gotten so many reviews for one chapter before. Seriously, I love you all. I can't believe my little doodles are entertaining you all.

That being said, I'm so sorry for the delay, but I've been so busy. This is my first day off in weeks. Please continue being wonderful and review.

Enjoy my lovelies.

Btw…this isn't the last chapter, you all convinced me to keep going :D

"_You've destroyed my life."_

_-Elena_

"_You've resurrected mine."_

_-DS_

"_But I still want you to come…."_

_Elena_

"_Don't worry my beauty, I'm going to cum all over you, all the time, until we'll just spend all our time making love and taking showers."_

_DS_

She starts tying his ribbons in her hair.

And from a distance, Damon can see her colors waving in the wind. It makes him feel like an animal in heat, like she's waving a red flag in front of an incensed bull and he's more than ready to charge.

He's around every darkened corner, hovering in-between every submerged shadow.

There was a time she had only his letters to contend with, now the maker himself is hounding (hunting) her, hastening her decent into the fires of hell.

It makes pleasuring herself almost impossible, and Elena finds herself growing unbelievably hot and uncomfortable, a constant tingling coating the layers of her skin that she's not allowed to sooth.

Of course, Damon knows this and probably thinks this will get her to give in that much more quickly…

He really is an impatient bastard.

At first he doesn't say much, just intimidates and flusters her with his very presence.

On one moonless night, she wakes to find him hovering over her bed, a darker shadow against the black of night - his eyes intent on her form.

He's reticent; his form still in the extreme, so Elena doesn't know what it was that woke her up from the depths of her slumber. What had caused the grasp of sleep to loosen its firm hold on her?

The night is such that there is no wind, not even any rustling of tree leaves to make a comforting whisper. Nor any breeze to lessen the overwhelming humidity chocking its human inhabitants. There is only dull heat, silence so loud it's a sound, and inky blackness shrouding every line and shape.

And there is Damon…above her.

It doesn't surprise her that he's chosen a night like tonight to arrive to torment (pleasure?) her.

The crawling underneath her skin stirs and flares, becoming an unbearable itch she _**has**_ to scratch. And yet he hasn't moved, hasn't come closer with the intent on using his hands, teeth, fingers, or tongue to help her…

She lets out a whine, a pathetic little whimper highlighting her need.

"Go ahead," he whispers, so softly and intently that Elena half thinks this is a dream. Her breathing is becoming labored under her discomfort, perspiration frizzing the wisps of hair at her temples.

"Please…"

"Do it, Elena!"

And like a puppy obeying its master, desperate to please, she watches him watch her follow his instructions.

She hisses at the first touch of naked skin her heated palm hits. And Damon swallows in response, the only movement besides his lips he's made all night.

Her eyelids flutter open to better see the Demon possessing her.

His eyes are glued to the hand she has gently cupping her sex. The fingers of her other hand are clutching desperately at her pillowcase – the effort almost too great in waiting to plunge her digits inside of her.

But the look on his face stops her – gives her the fortitude to keep her fingers still.

She lets out a deep, seductive moan that has Damon shaking.

He lets out a strangled groan and takes a single step forward so he is directly over her. Elena flutters her eyelashes at him and parts her lips, leaving her mouth open in invitation.

For once, Elena thinks, she is going to be in control.

His body shudders violently.

So Elena tilts her head back, opens her mouth wider, and lets her pointer finger tap once against her clit.

"FUCK," Damon swears. His body sways, seems to teeter for a moment like a see-saw, no doubt in response to his duel desires – to fucking pounce on her and to back the hell up so as to continue their game.

And as Damon inhales air like he's fucking drinking it, Elena lets out a breathy laugh.

His eyes flash to hers immediately, and Elena bites her lower lip and meets his gaze head-on. Let him see her playing him.

Eyes' suddenly flashing in understanding, Damon brings his arms up, like he's about to grab her by her upper-arms and shake her.

But Elena anticipates his move, and does the one thing she knows will stop him dead in his tracks…

She plunges three fingers into her opening and lets out a shrill scream.

Her eyes are closed, but she hears the thud Damon's knees make as they hit the floor. Elena turns her head, blinking softly and see's Damon kneeling by her bedside, his hands fisted in her sheets. She makes sure to keep the fingers inside of her still, tormenting the vampire besides her further.

They're sharing air, their faces are so close. Eyes riveted on one another, Elena brings her fingers out, a suctioning noise accompanying the action, before she slams them back in again.

Her back arches violently at the action, and Damon slams his fist against the bed, her smell swirling through the air making him delirious.

"GOOOOOOOOOOOOD!"

Elena is sobbing, her eyes open and meeting Damon's again.

He's sliding closer, his elbows propping his body up beside her, so he is leaning over her, close but not touching.

His face above her is so beautiful; Elena thinks he must be part angel. Maybe he's a fallen angel looking for redemption. And she can give him that; finally Elena's going to give in to this. Give in to this fucking inferno that's eating her alive.

"Puh-lease!" Elena sobs, her words wobbling with emotion.

His chest is heaving, he looks deranged he's looking at her so intently. Like he's about to tear her body up into a million pieces before rolling around in her spilled blood.

His lips part and Elena feels a wild surge of hope flair up inside her chest.

Studying her wide, begging, innocent eyes Damon pauses a moment before letting the words hovering on his lips out.

"Beg."

The breath inside her whooshes out abruptly.

Indignation fills her, even as liquid drips out of her.

God, she needs him. Her body bows with the thought of not having him tonight. But…he needs to be taught a lesson. He's been controlling this, been driving her insane for weeks, months now.

Well, not tonight, Elena thinks.

So she grits her teeth and slides her fingers oh so slowly out of her pussy.

Damon's eyes brighten in what he thinks is victory. His lips dart out to lick his lips, already imagining the taste of her forbidden fruit no doubt.

Elena lets him lean closer, his face sliding down towards her center, before she strikes.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

And Elena has barely taken in the stiffening in Damon form at her actions, she's too busy moving her fingers in and out of her furiously.

It takes effort, but Elena manages to get her eyelids open to see Damon's furious expression.

He thought she was going to beg for him.

And just to twist the knife in that much further, Elena drags her other hand up to cup her breast.

He's up and throwing her rocking chair clear across her room.

She keeps going, moans floating heedlessly out of her pouty lips.

Damon turns, meeting her drugged gaze.

She makes sure to keep her fingers moving as she speaks.

"This is your fault you know." She has to pause for a much needed breath, another moan slipping out of her before she can continue. "You could have had everything tonight…if…you weren't...so...smug." and with that strangled sentence still hanging in the air, she cums, wailing her release into the room.

He continues to stand there staring at her for a minute, while she's laying there breathing deeply, trying to recover.

Without another word, he leaves.

She feels hollow, but at least she's given him a taste of his own medicine.

tbc...

How was that, hot enough for you all?

All I know is I'm considering asking Santa for a Damon Salvatore Clone….he doesn't even need his own bed, we can share *grins evilly*

Aren't I just so sweet ;)


	5. Chapter 5

Ch 4 – Unraveling

AN: What can I say besides I'm so sorry for the delay, but I was really stumped with this chapter. Even though I had a certain version of this chapter written, it just didn't feel right to me. So anyway, I hope all my wonderful, amazing, beautiful readers enjoy this chapter. Please continue to be amazing and review, they do make me so happy.

Enjoy ;) 

With morning comes cold realization and nauseating guilt.

Upon opening her eyes, Elena's greeted with the most pain-filled expression she's ever seen.

Stefan….

She'd almost forgotten about him.

He's sitting on the edge of her bed, hands seemingly folded calmly in his lap, eyes flickering morosely to the floor.

Elena hastens to sit up, trying to untangle the sheets that somehow have become intertwined around her legs.

And then, with more force than a freight-train, the memory of last night slams through Elena's consciousness.

My God, did Stefan know?

Elena froze in-between movements, her eyes involuntarily widening and resting on her boyfriend.

How could he not know, Elena herself could still smell the remnants of her satisfaction fill the air.

…Her cries of agonizing pleasure still bouncing off her bedroom walls…

An image of Katherine smirking in gleeful triumph bounces around inside Elena's brain, and she can't help the pain-filled groan that escapes her lips at the image.

"Elena…"

Sniffling, Elena forces herself to open her already sore eye-lids to meet the agonized gaze of her boyfriend.

She's earned this pain, paid for it in full.

And his expression is every bit as devastating as Elena imagined it to be. A sob gets caught somewhere in her throat, her guilt not wanting Stefan to suffer her tears.

He'd always hated it when she'd cry…but he may welcome her agony now.

"My Elena," Stefan whispered. He moves swiftly, enfolding her in his familiar embrace.

Shock keeps Elena stiff, unresponsive, before understanding dwells uncomfortably in her gut.

He was going to ignore this, ignore her infidelity.

He was a much better person than she was. And the thought has her melting into Stefan's arms. He immediately starts peppering tiny kisses all over her face.

"I love you _**so**_ much, Elena. Please, don't ever leave me. God, I love you, I _**love**_ you!"

And with those words released into the air, Elena finally begins to cry. 

She's making a valiant attempt at ignoring Damon.

She's stopped writing him. 

When the first letter came after that disastrous morning with Stefan, Elena had every intention of throwing Damon's letter out without a single glance.

But that sneaky bastard must have known; must have guessed her intentions….because he'd launched a preemptive strike he'd known she couldn't ignore.

There's a single gardenia resting silently against the crisp envelope.

So delicate and perfect… against an even more perfect backdrop.

Gardenias were her mother's favorite flower.

She remembers telling him that the night of the Miss Mystic Falls pageant.

They had just locked Stefan up, and Elena was feeling ….cold.

…That was the only way she could describe what she'd been feeling that night.

But somehow, somewhere during that dance or during that night when he refused to leave her on those cold cellar steps….he'd filled her up with warmth.

So she found herself talking about her mom.

Telling Damon that what she missed the most about her mother was the smell of gardenias that always seemed to cling to her mother's dresses.

It frightened her the next morning to realize it wasn't necessarily her body he'd warmed either…but more like that pulsating place burning in the middle of her chest.

She hadn't talked to him for a week after that.

_Your mother was a beautiful woman, blessed to have an angel for a daughter._

_DS_

As the days become longer, and the threat of Klaus looms larger, Damon's words become simultaneously life-saving and damning.

They give her something to smile about; even if his messages run a little angst-ier then usual…they always make Elena feel alive. And let's face it; feeling alive when her time might be limited is nothing short of a god-send.

But, with her time running out…it definitely puts a certain amount of pressure on things. How do they define whatever this thing is they have floating so beautifully between them?

(And isn't that the question they've both been trying to answer since day one)?

Because really…Elena's running out of _**time**_.

If she waits any longer she won't have to worry about what to do …she won't be around to do anything. And that thought is what keeps her awake in the middle of the night.

It's hard to admit, but Elena is slowly coming to terms with the fact that somewhere inside of her – she's always just assumed she would end up with Damon someday.

Except now she doesn't have the luxury of 'someday'.

She has to decide.

Does she go to her grave a good person, faithful and honest?

Or, does she go to her grave with no regrets, having lived her life to the fullest?

The ticking of the clock sounds like her death sentence.

_I walk around this world blind, stumbling around until you will take it upon yourself to save me. Only your love can save me._

_DS_

She's slowly losing her hold on reality.

Piece by piece, memory by memory, she's methodically unraveling the fabric of what makes up Elena Gilbert.

Stefan's noticed.

_**Everyone's**_ noticed.

And the only thing Elena finds herself caring about is if Damon's noticed.

She's never been religious, but she finds herself in a confessional box, editing the tales of her life to an old man in a black robe.

She's looking for guidance, she tells the priest; for redemption.

He asks of her sins.

And Elena can't help the humorless breath of a laugh that escapes her lips.

She knows more about demons and death than this man of God ever could.

She leaves as silently as she'd entered. No trace of her presence ever found.

…except for the gasp that leaves her lips when she finds a black shape of a man waiting outside in the cold for her.

Their eyes meet, and Elena's right back to where they started.

She reads the letter she finds the next morning 50 times.

_How my secret longing for you nearly destroys me._

_Don't tell me I know nothing of love or relationships just because I haven't had the good fortune of being with the one __**I**__ love. _

_I've loved deeper in one minute than you have for your entire 3 year relationship with my brother._

_Your farce of a relationship insults me… _

_Just remember my sweet,_

_That while with one brother you may dwell in hell…_

_With the other, you'd reign in heaven._

_DS_

It's a step forward, but still about a million too few, Damon knows.

But winning Elena's heart is his holy crusade, his pilgrimage to Mecca.

And never tell a holy man of his obstacles, they'll only propel him forward.

Faith and a kind of obsessive devotion the only things fueling his tracks.

_I want to trace the lines of your body with my tongue and brand your skin with my devotion._

…_I'd make your skin glow with it._

_I'd chase the shadows from beneath your eye-lids with my soft kisses._

_Sooth the ache you carry in your bones with my love._

_I'll carry your sorrow from now on, my one and only._

_Let me,_

_Oh Elena, let me in._

_DS_

Despite the firm belief that everyone harbors,

(Elena Gilbert knows Damon Salvatore better than anyone else in his soul-less existence),

Elena can still be stunningly naïve when it comes to his intentions.

So absurdly, inanely wrong that really, she should be removed from these vampires lives.

Because obviously, she's not equipped to deal with their manipulations.

His last few letters had been filled with aching adoration.

Truthfully, they'd been chaste, _**sweet**_ even.

And he hadn't made any unannounced visits, since that night (his appearance at the church notwithstanding).

It was such a change from the lustful deliria that seemed to ensnare them that night in her bedroom that Elena had begun to relax. Thinking Damon felt remorseful over her guilty conscience, and that he was giving her the space she needed to figure it all out in.

….

What an idiot she was.

Because of course, Damon's adoring little poems couldn't last forever.

She should have known better.

She _**really**_ should have known better.

But ….

Maybe Elena can take at least a hint of the blame for what's happening in-between her sheets right now.

For the angles with which her limbs are suddenly being bent…

For the river her core is crying…

For the noises she's making…

For the noises she's making _**him**_ make.

(I mean really, what did she think was going to happen when she found him wet, naked, and alone?)

__

_Please._

_Please, give it to me…_

_Give. Me. All. Of. It._

_Elena_

_Tbc….._


	6. Chapter 6

AN: I hope these two chapters make up for the late update!

Please continue to be wonderful and review!

I finally broke 50 reviews, which I've never managed to do before, so THANK YOU!

Seriously, love you guys!

Ch. 5 - And with a sigh, she gives in…

One minute she was resisting, and then the next… she was barreling down the proverbial rabbit-hole, head first with nothing but a grin plastered across her face.

And where did this leave her?

Scared, alone, and hiding like a coward in some dirty, no-name motel in down town Georgia.

(She refuses to think about why she chose Georgia of all places to run to).

She's curled up in a ball, staring outside the one dirty window her room offers. Her muscles protest at the cramped position, and Elena's skin burns when remembering why her body is in the condition it's in.

She takes a deep breath, keeps the humid air hostage in her lungs for a moment, before exhaling noisily.

Just one more time, she thinks.

Absentmindedly, her fingers trail up to rest against her lips, finding a half-smile floating there.

She'll let herself re-live yesterday just **one** more time.

This **is** the last time, she promises herself.

Elena's made 64 promises to herself in the last 15 hours.

One minute she was resisting him, staring him down…

In the next she's in his arms, panting hot air into his gasping mouth.

Obviously, the mistake was made somewhere in that 45 second window…

It started like it always does, with his letters.

She remembers….

He's wearing her down; she can feel the beginnings of surrender deep inside her bones. She tries to ignore the feeling, but with each letter, with each word her resistance fades just a tad.

_I'd like to get on my knees for you,_

_And worship your every curve._

_DS_

His letters become a little more desperate, the invisible clock chiming loudly in both their minds.

_Give in now._

_I don't want to die without the taste of your lips imbedded within my own._

_And I will die; I will die for your life gladly._

…_Even if you hate me, even if you despise me_

…_even if you love me._

_DS_

A dark whisper chanting oh so temptingly in her ear.

She catches a glimpse of him undressing.

She's watching him through a tiny crack – the door left slightly ajar. And Elena's heartbeat increases until it's a living thing, alive and breathing in her ear.

But he carries on undressing and Elena carries on standing there; as tiny as possible against the doorway, her back pressing up against the wall.

He knows she's there.

She watches for another minute until her labored breathing grows uncomfortable, a wheeze too loud to ignore, so she slinks silently away, disappearing into the shadows of the boarding house.

It's so easy to get lost in here, and not for the first time, it makes Elena glad.

Their game has taken a dangerous turn.

In the effort to speed things along, Damon continuously watches her in various states of undress.

….they both do.

Elena seems to be addicted to catching glimpses of pearly white skin, a shade she's never seen on anyone but Damon.

_I dream of what you taste like. Are you as sticky as a mango… Or maybe tart like an apple? When I bite into you, would you squirt your juices into my mouth like an orange?_

_Are you as ripe as a plum, or as pink as a strawberry? _

_You're the only kind of fruit I want to nibble on._

_DS_

_Let my body be your playground. Climb me, ride me, swing me to and fro (slide against me); just never forget to use me…_

_It's play time, Elena._

_DS_

_As a child my favorite treat was chocolate fudge sundaes with whip cream._

_My favorite treat as an adult would be you._

_How about we combine the two? _

_DS_

Then there are the late night phone calls, made somewhere between the dead of night and the emerging light of dawn.

She doesn't say anything, just listens to the seductive words he all but purrs into a cold telephone.

She'll never know how sexy her hard breathing is to him. How her hot little pants make him think she's all but eating his whispered words.

"E-leeennna," he drawls.

His voice is like whisky, burning down her throat and polluting her bloodstream.

"Did you know," he pauses.

And Elena inhales shakily, wincing at how the sound echoes throughout the silence.

His laugh is dark and dangerous, and Elena would be furious if it wasn't so _**fucking**_ sexy.

"Did you know," he begins again, his tone deep but deceivingly blasé. "That there are an unlimited amount of erogenous zones on your body."

Oh.

Good.

Lord.

"I've done my research," he continues and it's all Elena can do to shove her fist into her mouth and **bite** **down**.

At least this way her cries are muffled.

"And I've imagined sucking on them all with my mouth, my lips," he drawls. "By the time I got done with you, you'd be nothing more than a puddle in my arms."

She's _**sweating**_.

"You'd never want to leave my bed, and I wouldn't let you... You want to know why, Elena?"

She inhales sharply at his question, and exhales loudly enough for it to be considered a whine.

There's nothing but silence for a moment.

And she's coiled so tightly that Elena finds herself rolling around her bed, tugging at her white linens, at her clothes, desperate for some sort of sensation. She feels like an animal and dear God it occurs to her that he hasn't even touched her. Her blood is **boiling**, and he hasn't even touched her.

How is she supposed to resist this?

Why would she want to?

And as if he can read her mind, can see the soul crushing thoughts she's having about him, Damon wisely remains quiet, letting her work out the complications.

But then he groans.

She hears clothes rustling, a zipper being pulled down, and Elena all but leaps from her bed. She scurrying across her hard wood floors and stumbling over her own feet in her haste to get her window open.

She needs air.

She needs air or she'll die.

She'll die from this inferno he's lit from within her sinews.

Her hands tremble as she struggles to unlock and unclench her window.

Damon's moaning her name now, and she doesn't know what the fuck is the matter with her but she's broken her window.

She made a fist and punched a hole through her window.

Glass is everywhere, and Elena deliriously thinks that it probably resembles her insides.

What a broken, ugly girl she is to be doing this.

Hysteria is bubbling up inside of her.

"That's right, I'm fucking myself and thinking of you. I'm imagining your sweet, wet cunt underneath my tongue. I'm imagining what you'd look like covered in my cum."

"Damon!"

She's slamming her palm against her bedroom wall.

Hitting it, and imagining the sound is the slapping of her naked flesh colliding against his.

"Do it Damon, fuck me!"

"I am. I'm fucking you so hard that you're bleeding."

"Bleeding in your mouth?"

"Ugh," he makes a strangled sound from the back of his throat before hissing out more words. "It's all down my throat baby."

"Yessss," Elena cries.

She's one fucked up girl.

When morning comes, she finds him.

He's alone.

The early light of dawn is illuminating his face, igniting his eyes with diamonds.

He's sparkling down on her…. Because he's wet.

Wet and naked.

And then finally, inevitably, she cracks. There's a rip and a tear and she's off-flinging herself at him, melting off all her old reservations.

There's a moment of silence, where the only sound in the room is the mighty roar their eyes make when they meet, and then she's on him.

Drowning in him.

Clinging and trying to peel his skin off with her bare hands in order to climb inside him. She wants to taste his flesh, his very essence.

She drinks him up instead. She falls to her knees and gobbles him up.

He's never screamed so fucking loud in his entire life.

Mouths are open, tongues exploring.

Bodies are trembling, slick and shiny with sweaty exhilaration.

Damon's never seen anything so pretty, but Elena's body looks as luminescent and shiny as a pearl when covered in sweat.

The sweat he's created, earned with all the hard work he's putting into her body.

Another flick of his tongue and….off she goes, tumbling down another hill.

The next day-break brings cold sheets and heartache so acute it's twisting Damon's guts, making it difficult to stand.

So he lays there in his cold, Elena-smelling sheets and plots.

If she thinks he's giving up now…well then she's really insane.

He turns his face to the side, burying his nose deeper into the pillow Elena had collapsed into sometime during their bout of love-making.

Her scent is drenched into the silken material of his pillow-case in a way Damon imagines is similar to the way her essence is now imprinted into his rock-hard body.

He doesn't know whether to smile or cry whether to smash something or sigh. She's got him all messed up as usual, feeling a kaleidoscope of emotion.

He's going to get her for this.

So he takes a last hit of the addictive drug drenching his pillowcase and sits up to prepare for the day. The shirt he was wearing last night is missing and it's almost inconceivable to Damon that somewhere out there, Elena is wearing his shirt.

Elena.

His heart continues to hammer at the newfound knowledge as Damon drags a pair of low-cut jeans over his hips, not even bothering to button them up.

He sits at his desk, and grabs paper and pen.

Elena Gilbert will be his…his heart demands it.

_I've been nice up until now._

_But this is the last nice thing I'm going to be doing for you, so listen up Elena._

_You __**will**__ be mine._

_You will be mine and no one else's._

_I've waited patiently for you to discover this love on your own, but that's enough._

_I'm tired of not having what I want, of what has been made for me._

_I will drag you, kicking, screaming, and crying if I have to._

_I'll tie you up, and lock you away._

_And I'll fuck you; love you so hard that you won't even remember what __**exists**__ outside my four walls._

_This is your warning._

_Elena,_

_I'm coming for you._

_DS_

Tbc….

AN: So, what did you all think?

I'm hoping you're all fanning yourself and getting an ice cold drink ;)


	7. Chapter 7

AN: So yeah….I'm doing a re-write of my last chapter. It's not that I'm _**not**_ proud of my last chapter because I actually really liked it… BUT… I have to agree with a lot of you that complained it was too much of a deviation from the tone I've set since the beginning. Going back and looking over everything… I have to agree with all you lovely people. I hope that you're not mad that I'm doing a re-write, or feel like it's some sort of cop-out… But I really want to get this story right. I have to say most of my reviews were considerate, I got a couple of nasty ones, which I didn't appreciate, but for all of you that were considerate and honest thank you so much. Please tell me what you think and review!

I love you guys.

Brief recap: Elena's been slowly losing her mind, torn between her desire for Damon and her guilt in betraying Stefan. In the last chapters we see Elena give in to Damon (sort of), and they make love. However, upon awakening, Elena is nowhere to be seen (she is in fact hiding in a motel room in Georgia...ironic anyone?) Which pisses Damon off, like really, really pisses him off. Damon writes a last letter to Elena, warning her that he's about to play dirty. Just remember guys, Damon is pissed, but the fluff will come (just not necessarily in this chapter)

Ch. 6

A Mouthful of Repercussions

It. Won't. Stop.

**The** **tears** **won't** **stop**.

They are streaming down her face, leaving angry red rivers behind. Reminding Elena of the afternoons she used to spend with her mom by her home-town waterfall.

What force those waters had. What damage they could cause…

('Just like you,' Katherine whispers… 'Just like me.')

There's an animal choking somewhere outside her tiny motel room, she can hear its garbled cries. And Elena wants to find it and comfort it. So she manages to suck in a breath and crawl back up to her knees…. only to discover the crying has stopped.

She waits, frozen there on bruised knees, listening. But there's only silence.

Oh.

It was her.

She's the pitiful animal.

And somehow, this makes her feel better.

She doesn't bother turning on the one light that hangs precariously from the center of the room's ceiling. She just curls up, right there on the dirty floor.

Smashing her left cheek into the ragged carpet below her, Elena's last thought is that it's just so much _**rougher**_ than Damon's silken sheets.

('Then maybe you shouldn't have left him, you whore.')

"Shut up Katherine," Elena whispers.

Day breaks,

Night falls.

…And then day breaks,

And night falls.

Again.

And again.

Again,

…and again.

She's crazy.

That's the only explanation, because she's hearing his voice.

And not in her head, like she misses him so much that she's remembering the exact timber and cadences of his murmurings.

No, she fucking _**hears**_ him.

Like he's right next to her, and it has her jumping and twirling around in circles trying to find him.

But she's alone.

God, she's _**crazy**_!

('E-lenaa')

"Damon?"

('I'm coming for you_)._'

"Oh, oh Damon please, I can't handle this!"

_(_'E-lenaa')

"Damon!"

('E-lenaa')

"Please, STOP!"

('E-lenaaaa')

"You're not real!"

She's counting the cracks in the faded yellow wallpaper in an effort to keep her mind occupied, and off Damon Salvatore.

(Or Stefan Salvatore for that matter, she thinks wryly).

She could respond to one of what seems like hundreds of text messages and missed calls she's received buuuuttttt…..

She can't.

Can't face them,

And can't face the reflection in her mirror.

If she's lucky, (which Elena knows she really really is), Klaus will find her and end her before anything else can unfold.

Because it's only a matter of time.

Only a matter of time before Stefan and what's left of her family finds out what she's become, what she will continue to be.

Because she can't resist him.

If Damon finds her…she's done.

Please find me, Elena thinks.

(Please don't…)

She's having dreams.

Dreams about him.

Some sweet, and unquestionably hers.

And some…not so sweet. These are the ones she's unsure of, the ones that make her pace around her motel room biting her nails.

It's not that she's above a kinky fantasy or two, she's definitely not… (especially lately)...

But these dreams have a hazy, almost drug-like quality to them, as if she's viewing them behind a shroud of scratchy black lace.

It makes her wonder if Damon is somehow controlling all this. Making her hear his voice, Katherine's voice, making her dream…

It's not that she believes Damon is above such things, (she's learned the hard way that he isn't) but does he really have _**this**_ much power?

Wouldn't he need to know where she is?

…Does he know where she is?

Maybe this is his strategy, to drive her slowly insane until she can't take it anymore, until she gives up (gives in).

Shaking her head in exasperation, or maybe resignation, Elena can't help but think 'is this really what love is supposed to be like?'

And then, frightening her beyond belief, _**that**_ voice chuckles right against her ear.

She spins, hair flying, heart racing, trying to locate him.

But there's only empty space.

Nonetheless, she hears,

('Oh Elena, you should know better than that').

She dreams again that night.

She's taken nothing but his letters with her.

She has them all spread out; laying across the motel's faded beige carpet.

The ribbons, all the beautiful velvety ribbons he's given her, lay curled at her feet looking lonely and harmless.

Reaching out a trembling hand, she strokes the silken length of one of them.

It doesn't feel all that different from him.

Closing her eyes, she continues to stroke it, remembering the euphoria, the rush of adrenaline she felt when she worked Damon over.

(The noises he made…)

The way his eyes pierced through her…

His muscles contorting powerfully under her small, small, hands…

Her chest is heaving now, and she reaches for a handful of the curling ribbon.

She removes all her clothing, and wraps herself in him instead.

(or the closest she can get to him anyway).

She's wrapped in his colorful embrace.

His thoughts and emotions surrounding her and cocooning her…

And time marches on.

When he finds her, she's relieved.

There's no warning, no notice.

There's only silence,

…and then there's not.

Because he's there, kicking down her little motel room door and standing in the entrance-way looking like a god.

Her mouth falls open in shock.

But after a moment, Elena can feel her lips moving, trying to form words…but when she finally gets a good look at his face…she freezes.

And a chill works its way up her spine, her human instincts warning her,

DANGER!

But she must be one messed up little girl, because a thrill unlike anything she's _**ever**_ known before blossoms, full and ripe inside of her.

Elena watches with a sick, mute kind of fascination as Damon surveys her lodgings – looking like a king taking stock of his lands.

And something dark and primal runs through her as she realizes that Damon does think of her in that way – as his.

(as his property?)

No a little voice inside Elena whispers, 'as his queen.'

His to own, his to do whatever he wants with…

And that's exactly what he's here for.

Her heart stutters once, before hammering against her ribcage. Each beat feels like an ice pick going through her, into her.

It's unbelievably painful…the want.

And he must have heard it because his eyes, once so casual and bland, are now looking at her with a little curiosity, and more than a hint of malice.

The red ribbon he'd idly grabbed off her broken-down dresser is now being stretched taught between his long, knowledgeable fingers.

Elena finds herself swallowing, unable to remove her eyes from the sight. How he's practically manhandling that piece of silky material.

How nimble his fingers are.

His eyes lift up, pinning her to the very piece of earth she's silently sitting on. Tilting his head to the side, he considers her, takes her in, stretching the moment out into something Elena feels like might kill her. Because she's pretty sure that the human body is not equipped to handle this supernova that's about to combust … About to break free from the burning ache somersaulting somewhere around her hollow chest.

"You've been a bad girl," Damon says.

….

The whimper that leaves her throat had no chance of being suppressed, so Elena doesn't bother mourning its loss.

Instead she tries to swallow, to breathe, to do **something!**

But she can't.

"Haven't you Elena," he continues, like she hasn't just made any type of aroused-beyond-belief noises.

There's steam rising from their bodies, pouring out of their every pore. From the corner of her eye, Elena can actually see the cloudy streaks fogging up her dresser mirror.

And all of this has been created while they're on opposite ends of the room.

She's still crumpled up in a pathetic ball of human flesh, and he's leaning against her dresser drawer, the only thing of hers he's touching is that damned ribbon.

Her heartbeat is the soundtrack to this moment; it's drumming more pronounced that even the loudest club beat. And Elena feels her blood rushing, pulsating to its rhythm.

They both hear it, and Elena can measure what she thinks is her life in the last remaining beats.

The veins around Damon's icy orbs are crackling in response, halfway hidden beneath long raven hair. He inhales and exhales heavily, just once, before he straightens.

"You're going to do exactly what I say, Elena."

He pauses, perhaps waiting for her to interrupt but Elena doesn't say anything, just continues to stare up at him from her spot on the floor.

White, masculine hands clench by his sides.

"Take your clothes off."

….

Buh-bum, her heart goes.

Her fingers feel immobile, a strange sort of stillness invading her limbs.

Does she really want to do this?

All that she seems capable of doing is staring at him.

"Were you waiting for me to close the blinds," Damon asks mockingly, an almost cruel smile twisting his face and his words. "You're so demure and innocent now."

Why is excitement licking at her bones?

A growl erupts from his throat, and he takes a menacing step forward.

"Don't. Test. Me. Elena. I'll fucking rip Jeremy's throat out again if I have to."

Her shock must show, because he's sneering now, a taunting twist creeping along his sculpted lips.

"It's not my fault someone's pushed me to my limit. And you better believe that I'm capable of anything right now, so TAKE. YOUR. FUCKING. CLOTHES. OFF."

Before she realizes what she's doing, she's up and stripping.

Her cute little cardigan,

Her top,

Her jeans,

Until all that's left is her baby pink scarf, trailing innocently down her shoulders, framing her naked breasts.

Stefan had bought it for her last year.

Ironically enough, she'd forgotten all about it…

(until now that is).

After a moment, a long heart-stopping moment, Damon turns away from her, reaching into a black bag she hadn't noticed before.

"Don't worry, I'm not gonna touch you."

But the gleam in his eyes is wicked, and Elena is worried. She's astronomically, infinitely, worried.

"You're gonna touch me."

Oh.

Well…ok.

Something in her seems to release, a hum building up beneath her fingertips until….

"And we're gonna make Stefan watch."

His words _**slam**_ into her, turning her flesh chili-pepper red; whether from shame or arousal Elena has no clue. And she feels a sort of hopeless resignation fill and weigh her bones at the uncertainty.

A camera is set,

A tripod unfolded,

A light flashes once,

(They move closer)

Twice,

(She's tying that pretty little scarf around his wrists)

Three times,

and ACTION!

There's movement, but no thought to it, like it's a choreographed dance that she's been through so many times that in all unfolds with simple muscle memory.

She's pushing him down, down, down onto a feeble, broken looking, folding chair.

Resting one delicate palm across his t-shirt clad chest, she exerts minimal pressure, 'stay still.'

He does.

Rising to her full height, she circles him, letting her fingers slide temptingly across his still-clothed flesh, before coming to a stop in front of him.

A soft, red glow, bathes them, but Elena gives no thought to the camera capturing her actions, capturing her naked body on full display.

Damon is painfully aware of it, and is positively _**gleeful**_.

Elena's kneeling now, her hands digging into his thighs.

Doe eyes never leaving blue ones.

"Have you ever had my cock in your mouth before, Elena?"

Heat fills her, as she shakily nods in reply.

But then she's caught in his gaze, and even though he's the one with his hands tied behind his back, she's the one trapped.

"Speak up, kitten. Stefan can't hear you."

Oh god.

He's really filming this!

For some reason, she didn't believe it.

This isn't her!

She would never be so cruel, so deliberate in causing someone else's pain.

"No," Elena whimpers.

But his eyes, they are still on hers, and she's powerless.

Is he compelling me, Elena thinks.

(Will the real Damon Salvatore, please stand up – Katherine chants).

He must be, because she's unzipping him.

…And then stroking the silken steel rod with gusto.

He's hot in her hands.

And his eyes are blazing down at her, doing unmentionable, unimaginable things to her morals.

She's blowing hot air onto Damon's dick, and Stefan is watching.

Watching her with those gentle, moss-green eyes of his.

Oh god, she really doesn't want to be doing this!

But the cruelest thing is yet to come.

He does it when she has him fully engulfed within the warm confines of her mouth.

He starts reciting one of _**her**_ love letters.

"Dear Damon, Please. Please, give it to me…Give. Me. All. Of. It."

And then his eyes are flickering to the camera resting behind her head.

"Did you get all that, Steffie?"

Tears fill her eyes, as his jeering words touch her ears. And all the while she keeps going, keeps sucking and licking and feeling his body shake beneath her mouth.

That's the only comfort she can get. That he's obviously affected by her, still so, _**so**_ affected.

And then it's over, and he has her curled into his chest like some kind of beloved pet.

She should be disgusted by what Damon has just done to her, and part of her is…

But it's only a part of her, and that's the scariest thing of all.

Who the hell is she? 

And then, with nothing more than one, wild gasp, she wakes up.

She's still in her motel room, still tangled up in those same striped, motel-issued sheets.

Panting, Elena brings her hands up, covering her entire face before sobbing uncontrollably.

She's so confused.

"Why, Damon? Why?"

('Because you'll forgive me, you'll forgive me anything…') his voice echoes, bouncing forebodingly off those thin walls surrounding her, choking her.

"No," she whispers.

('Because you're mine, because even if I did this… you'd feel for me)'

She doesn't answer.

She just watches the stars until they all fade away.

When morning comes it's her turn to mail a letter.

_No, it's because I hurt you. I hurt you by running. _

_And now you're hurting me back._

_You're getting even with me._

_Well you've succeeded, Damon._

_You've driven me to the brink of insanity._

_You and my guilt…._

_You've gotten your revenge._

_Now leave me alone._

_I don't know what this is, but it isn't love._

_Elena_

Tbc…

How was it?

Damon's very hurt…and angry. So he is lashing out a bit…BUT Elena's letter is going to scare Damon.

There are lighter times ahead for these two…along with more smut. Much more smut ;)

Please be kind guys ;)


End file.
